


No Angel

by WindmillGhost



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, M/M, Transformation, lucifer having a crisis over the fact that being the avatar of pride gave him a praise kink, monster au, oh yeah and becoming a demon was pretty distressing too, the other bros show up and have some lines but its lucifer-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindmillGhost/pseuds/WindmillGhost
Summary: To Lucifer, becoming a demon is a repulsive fate that he simply can't avoid. To his master, it's an incredible achievement to be celebrated. These feelings are hard to untangle.
Relationships: Diavolo & Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	1. First Supper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Monster AU I've been talking/drawing about on tumblr, which is where I originally posted the fic. Here's the most relevant posts.  
> (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/627087880155725824)  
> (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/628082608346202112)  
> (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/628165716530675712)
> 
> Tl:dr, a demon's "human" form is the horns+wings form they have in the game while their "true" form is a big ol' monster, and becoming a demon requires getting pieces of horn put into your head because demon is stored in the horns.

The first thing Lucifer felt was a pulsing pain, one that rang in his ears and filled the lids of his closed eyes with static. He gasped at the sudden awareness, only for the air to burn in his throat. His entire body was sore, weak from exertion, a feeling that was horrifyingly new to the formerly-celestial being. But his head, his fucking _head_ , that was the worst by far. He struggled to sit up in bed as his hands shot to the sides of his skull. The skin was tender and swollen, but there was nothing that gave away the fact that, last he was conscious, these spots had been open holes. His finger grazed against a sharp point, like a needle barely poking through fabric. A chill shot through him, despite the warmth of the glowing Devildom twilight.

“You’re awake!” 

The voice was filled with relief, and a large, warm hand was suddenly on top of Lucifer’s own. He turned his head to meet the golden eyes of the Demon King’s son. Diavolo, his new lord and master. What a surreal thought. It made it even more surprising that that same man was sitting beside his bed, worrying over him. He supposed no one would want to have a servant die before even getting a day’s worth of use out of them.

“How are you feeling?” Diavolo asked, bringing him back to the moment at hand.

“Ah… not well. It hurts. Everything.” He winced after the words left his mouth, not at the pain but in the way it made the other man’s brow knit in concern. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, it’s been like that ever since I entered this realm. Do you think it worked?”

Lucifer didn’t feel the need to specify what “it” was-- fortunate, since he couldn’t bring himself to say. He didn’t want to ask whether he was going to _turn into a demon_ , as if that was something he _wanted_ , and not just the grim alternative to death. It was hard to be sure which one was better. Saving Lillith was about the best he could imagine for what his last act could be.

Diavolo sighed and shook his head. “We really can’t know yet. I’ve only ever read that this can be done, so I don’t have any frame of reference. Let me...” He trailed off while he parted Lucifer’s hair with his fingers, and the man couldn’t stop his face from heating up at the contact. 

As if the humiliation of submitting himself to a demon wasn’t enough, now that demon was feeling around the new addition to his body, one which he was trying desperately to avoid thinking about. His… _horns_. While there was no visual indication of their presence, Lucifer knew that the shards of cursed bone had been embedded beneath the surface, piercing into his brain– or, where he assumed his brain would be, now that he had been made flesh– and doing who-knows-what to his body. Trying to think of that not as a foreign object, but part of himself, made his insides churn.

“It looks like your body accepted the fragments, at least. The only thing we can really do for now is wait and see if they grow-- and we need to make sure that the sickness doesn’t get worse. I don’t want to be too hasty in saying you’re in the clear. Do you have a headache? It seems like everyone’s complaining about headaches.”

Lucifer jolted at the reminder. Diavolo held his arm out for support, while he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He couldn’t be sitting around when his family might need him. “The others-- they’re alive.”

“Yeah, your friends--”

“Brothers”

“Your brothers, they’re alright. Oh, which one was it… ” He paused, trying to dredge up a name from the pool of new acquaintances. “Mammon is already up. He wanted to go outside, apparently.”

That made Lucifer crack a smile. “Yes, that does sound like him.” He stood, but only for a moment before shuddering and sinking down onto his knees. Damn, why was he so weak?

“Lucifer!” Diavolo yelped. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I’m just… shaky. And there’s a… _pain_ , or something, in my belly.”

In an instant, Diavolo was on his knees as well, eyes wide with concern and flickering between Lucifer, and the door. Even in his poor state, he could read the question on his mind. Get help, or stay? Fortunately, he didn’t need to find an answer, with a figure arriving at the door in response to the commotion at the commotion. Ah, he remembered Diavolo’s servant-- or maybe he should think of him as a colleague now. 

“My lord--?”

Lucifer’s body responded before Diavolo could, generating a bizarre gurgling sound from inside his abdomen. He froze, alarmed by this new symptom. 

Diavolo shot up to his feet as the realization hit him. “You need to eat!”

* * *

It took another hour or so for dinner to be served, due just as much to the task of getting everyone on their feet as any preparation that the meal needed. Making his brothers move around seemed almost cruel, but Diavolo has assured him that this was not a frivolous activity, and that if Lucifer was hungry, then they all had to have a meal. And so they sat, six haggard and miserable faces around the table. It was only after the servant was finished presenting the different dishes and left, that Mammon started to lift the uncomfortable silence with his nervous babbling. In this instance, it was more than welcome. More talking gave Lucifer less time to scan the heads of his brethren for any sign of protruding bone.

Belphegor tugged on his brother’s sleeve. “You’re not going to feel better if you don’t eat something.”

Beelzebub opened his mouth to respond, before closing it again with a grimace. His expression was still glazed over as he surveyed the table. “Demons eat a lot of meat.” He observed flatly. 

“Well that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Leviathan chipped in. “I don’t think I’ve seen a single demon without sharp teeth. They’ve gotta be, like, carnivores.”

Lucifer ran his tongue over his teeth. Blunt. Hopefully, they would stay that way.

* * *

He couldn’t get any sleep, despite having gotten used to the concept some time ago. Again and again, he ran his fingers over the curve of his horns. They were only an inch or so in length, but he couldn’t deny that they were growing. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would-- in fact, there was barely any sensation there at all. When it grazed against his nail, however, he could hear it, feel the vibration in his head. By now, the chill it gave him was routine. Every change he suffered made it clearer, the dreadful inevitability that none of them would be the last. 

Possibly the most upsetting change at all was the way that it thrilled him, though that surely had nothing to do with the others. That had all to do with meeting Diavolo today. Apparently, he saw Lucifer as his personal little experiment, checking on his condition personally every chance he got. He couldn’t deny that it was nice to have someone asking how he was feeling, like his health was important. Honestly, he had been looking forward to it, sitting down in the garden with the master that he couldn’t help but think of as a friend.

Diavolo had parted his hair with his fingers again. He was absolutely beaming to see the stubs of new horns. 

He said their development was “impressive.” 

_They were growing faster than he expected,_ he’d told him. _Not all of his brothers’ had come in yet. He couldn’t wait to see what they’d look like. Lucifer would surely make a_ fine _demon._ That familiar chill came back, but he hardly noticed-- as he processed the barrage of praise, he found himself preening on the inside. He might have even smiled, as if there was nothing he’d rather be than the prince’s successful experiment. As if being a fine demon was something to be proud of.

Lucifer knew that it wasn’t true. Inevitable as his fate was, it was simply fact that it would be a horrible deterioration from what he used to be. And yet, he was still awake, wondering along with Diavolo about what his horns would look like. As he finally drifted off, it was to the half-conscious wish that they’d keep growing. It had felt good to be _impressive._


	2. The Fledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, monster form time. Here's the relevant posts.
> 
> Initial concept: (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/626808720654991360)  
> Mammon: (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/627298835868368896)  
> Lucifer: (https://windmill-ghost.tumblr.com/post/627021266834112512)
> 
> The change isn't always this messy, but since Lucifer was suppressing it for so long, it happened all at once where it could have been at a more comfortable pace.

Lucifer had just pulled on his coat, and was giving himself the once-over in the mirror when he heard the light clicking of metallic footsteps. He glanced to the side at Mammon-- or at least, the thing that was passing for Mammon these days. His brothers’ drastic physical changes were, in general, just something he had to deal with now. Mammon, however, had been claiming that he couldn’t change back for weeks, which made him particularly irritating.

It seemed like he was making a genuine attempt to fit into his normal clothes. The sharp points his legs ended in were obviously incompatible with shoes, but he had managed a rolled-up pair of pants without poking any holes in them. The shirt was proving to be a problem, though. The sleeves were snagging on every sharp edge of his arms, and the spines along his back struggled to flatten underneath the fabric. 

“Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute I just-- I gotta get this.”

At that, Lucifer turned, acknowledging his brother with a cold look. “Might I ask where you’re going ‘out’ to?”

Mammon cocked his head birdishly. “What’re you talking about? You invited me to the dinner tonight."

“Yes, I invited you, but I did that with the assumption that you were going to be _presentable._ ”

“What’s not presentable!?”

Lucifer’s lip curled up in a snarl. “You can’t honestly be _that_ stupid.” He put his hand on the thing’s bony chest and pushed-- while Mammon was taller than normal in this form, he stepped back in stunned compliance. “Put _all that_ away, or stay home, Mammon.” 

“So, do you need another plus one? I could come.” Beelzebub butted in from the hall, apparently smelling blood in the water. His normally flat expression broke into a smile, and Lucifer noted the drool trailing off of his sharp teeth with revulsion.

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” 

Mammon couldn’t help but balk. “What-- he didn’t even do anything wrong, yet! You could give him a chance--”

“ _No._ I know you _can’t help_ being monsters, but I’m not going to chance any of you humiliating me in front of Diavolo by _acting_ like it.”

* * *

“Aw, I wouldn’t have minded!” 

Diavolo was as sunny as ever-- the closest thing to the sun you could find in the Devildom-- giving a warm smile across the table as he took a pause from his meal.

“I would have.” Lucifer said, a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine in his hand. “They have no self-control at all. It’s embarrassing.”

His lord gave a long sigh, with that condescending mix of disappointment and compassion that was like sandpaper on Lucifer’s nerves, before lowering his fork. “You know… you really could be more fair to them. What they’re doing-- what all of you are doing-- is unprecedented.”

Damn it all, he was giving this talk again. 

“I never knew how well this was going to work. You agreed to become a demon, but I honestly expected that those horns wouldn’t do anything but keep you alive. But…” Diavolo paused to gaze at him appraisingly, like one would at a fine painting. “Look at you now. It’s hard to believe you’re the same angel I met all those years ago-- you look like you were born here. And with your brothers realizing their true forms, you really are everything a real demon is.”

“ _They_ are.” Lucifer corrected.

He’d thought the same thing, when he first swore himself to the Demon King-- that he’d be a “demon” in name only. The horns were just a way to protect him from Devildom, a costume to make the presence of a former angel in Diavolo’s service acceptable. His sharpened claws and teeth, which he scarcely revealed outside of his lord’s request… well, he didn’t like them, but he could live with it. It didn’t stop him from being _himself_ , no matter what his brothers kept trying to say.

Diavolo arched an eyebrow. “Ah, that was something I wanted to ask you about. Have you--”

“No.”

“I didn’t even ask yet!” He said with a laugh, and then continued as if Lucifer hadn’t accurately guessed what he was moving towards. “Have you seen any signs of _your_ true form?”

“ _No._ ” Lucifer stressed. “I don’t know why you’re so sure that I’m supposed to have one.”

“Aside from the five reasons living with you?”

He made a choked noise. “Well, as I said… not a lot of self-control to be found there.” 

For heaven’s sake, why did Diavolo have to compare him to them? He pressed his lips together, wanting to stop there, but in his mind he couldn’t help but go on. _They_ might have _failed_ to retain any semblance of the self-respecting angels they used to be, but Lucifer was _different_ . He was _better_ than that, he was better than to--

Something pulled at his left glove. He had been tensing his fingers without thinking about it, and something else had started pushing against the fingertips. The fabric strained against his hand as it stretched, making his wrist buckle upwards and making a cracking noise that he prayed wasn’t as loud to Diavolo as it was to him. He pulled the hand away and rested it on his lap. It wouldn’t stay still, twitching and spasming. and making a prickling pain where needle-like points began to poke through the glove and into his legs. Why did this have to happen _here_ , and _now_ of all times? He could only pray that it wouldn’t last too long.

“Ah… my food is getting cold.” Lucifer muttered, by way of justifying a stop to the conversation.

Diavolo seemed to understand, and looked down at his own plate, giving Lucifer a moment to fumble to pick up his fork with his right hand.

* * *

When Lucifer arrived back in his office, he was clutching at his twitching hand, trying to make it still. It hadn’t gone away-- in fact, it was only getting worse. By the time he’d left Diavolo, it was a trial to not visibly stumble, and by the time he’d arrived at home all he could ask for was not breaking down in a common area. It was only when he was behind closed doors that he felt some degree of safety to look as much of a mess as he felt like.

His body seized up once more, and he fell onto his hands and knees, his wings flaring out behind him erratically like that of an injured bird attempting to fly. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn’t nearly as painful as he was sure it appeared, it just… _felt_ . Sensations were crashing into the man like waves in a storm, every part of him excruciatingly receptive. It _did_ hurt, he could feel the pain beneath everything else, but it was all but buried under the all-consuming feeling of flesh twisting beneath his own skin. His left hand gripped the carpet desperately, as Lucifer willed with the full force of his soul for this to just go _away._

_He had to get a grip. This was beneath him._

All at once, something within him snapped. Large, curved claws sunk into the floor, his fingers distorting with enough force to tear apart the glove like cheap lace. Before he had time to think better of it, Lucifer tried to get a better look at the hand, blinking tears from his eyes. The skin from his fingertips to his knuckles had turned a deep black, with ridges of overlapping scales that glinted in the dim light. A spasm shot through his arm again, and the area of scaled skin lurched upwards towards his wrist. Something was pulling on his shoulder, and he could swear the joint was being torn out of the socket. There was a climatic crack, and Lucifer was surprised to feel that his shoulder was still there… as well as another joint, sitting slightly further down his arm and bending in a way that made the whole limb look like a strip of crumpled paper. There was only a moment of relief before the stress on his shoulder returned. 

The other arm hung limply at his side. While it was growing numb, there was a feeling of tearing sinew, like his flesh it was a sleeve that his bones were pulling out of. Fortunately, it was swallowed by pins and needles before he had to experience what it would be like to have a limb turned inside-out. Reeling from a change in his balance, his wings-- he could be sure if he was just disoriented or if his wingspan had increased-- hit the floor in an attempt to keep his body upright.

Lucifer tried to think, to come up with some kind of solution or plan, but his head was shrieking. It felt like an electric current was running through his horns. He couldn’t help but give a laugh that came out more like a sob, as he remembered his fears from when he first received them. How _right_ he had been to fear them, to see them as dangerous objects that could destroy his mind and body. It was sheer complacency that had gotten him to forget that.

There was a knock at the door, someone calling his name with concern. Damn it, the last thing he wanted was for someone to see him, especially not one of his brothers. He couldn’t help but imagine what they’d think of him now, a vision that made him squeeze his eyes closed and hurl himself towards the window.

From the other side of the door, Mammon heard the shattering of glass and a strange rhythm of wingbeats.


End file.
